Five minutes before first pitch at 7:05 at Busch Stadium last night, all was well. We were sitting in the bleachers with our father and our fiancee, scorebook and four pens in hand, watching David Eckstein toss pop-ups with a kid who had won some contest. It was hot, but it had been hot all week, everywhere. The sky was perfect blue; "severe clear," as they call it in aviation.

Remember when the spaceships attack the cities in Independence Day? When everything's fine, and then all of a sudden the black-green clouds converge, and everything is dark and still? That's what it was like at Busch Stadium last night. A friend sent us a text message, tongue-in-cheek: "Beware the clouds of death!" The grounds crew brought the tarp on the field, though it wasn't raining yet. We grabbed a beer and started chatting with the lady who sold it to us. We looked on, curiously, as the American flag waved one direction, then whipped back dramatically in the other.

And then: WHAM. Within literally a matter of seconds, the place exploded. The beer tent we were standing under imploded, sending — no! — beer flying everywhere and people scattering in all directions. A television camera fell from just above us. Everyone ducked for cover; one guy ran around with his daughter, screaming that she had a bad heart, though he seemed a lot more scared than she did. We think we even heard Joe Buck cry. It was absolutely surreal: A beautiful baseball day, attacked by aliens within seconds. A satellite dish went flying off the roof of a building across the street. Heck, we even lost our hat.

Then it was over. We ended up not staying for the game — we had to make sure our family house was standing — and as we drove back to Illinois, we saw a turned-over tractor trailer lying on top of a Jetta. Then, this morning, we scrambled around to find someplace to bring you some knowledge this morning. (Thanks to Rick Chandler for getting us started today.) We currently in a dark room with a hamster running on a wheel to keep power, with two Dixie cups and a string serving as "Internet." We can receive email today but cannot send it out ... so we're not being rude, we're just a little shellshocked.

Game 1: 15-3 Braves. Game 2: 14-5 Braves. Game 3: Fire from the sky, raining down. The new Busch Stadium rules!